Lack of Sight
by taratron
Summary: It's more than meets the eye.


Lack of Sight  
>by <span>Taratron<span>

Don't they see me?

No...no...I digress. If even I cannot see myself, I can hardly expect others to.

Still...

Still the answer is negative. They don't see me. Or if they do...they realize to counterattack and counteract the effects of this infernal spark would be more difficult than anything they have faced before, or are liable to again. From what I have learned, Transmetal 2 technology is still very new. Tarantulas would no doubt love to try experimenting on me now.

They don't see me. It is not a realistic goal to expect them to.

Instead they see what the others see. A drone. Loyal to Megatron, and perhaps that is the ultimate irony of this existence. In theory, being able to live forever, thanks to that cursed spark, and in living forever, unflagging loyalty to Megatron. Forever.

It is a word I never enjoyed, even before this. As mortals (am I still a mortal? or have I progressed beyond that?), we cannot even BEGIN to understand the duration of forever. And now it appears to be mine.

A drone. Yet they hear Megatron and the other Predacons call me now, by name. Perhaps "drone" is the best name for me now. But it seems to give Megatron some perverse pleasure to call me by my old calling. Is it still my real name? Did not Dinobot perish in the battle for the human race?

But I am still here, and I am still Dinobot. At least, I can see myself as such. The memories, what little of them there are...exceedingly muddled and bare of detail or fact. They could be mere dreams. They could be something more...if only the fog around them would lift or clear even barely enough to see them.

But the fog does not rise, and forever, it murks and lurks. There is only darkness, and the only pale light comes not from inside, but from out.

From the spark that now pulses in my chest. Not my spark...but it is. Not my spark, for it first pulsated within the beast Rampage. But now it is mine as well. A shared spark, a shared life...a shared forever. We are bound by the same spark, but that is all between us.

But it is not my spark...hardly. Between the falling fog and the commands which seem more of fate than mere mortal orders, if Megatron did not control me, Rampage certainly might. If even my dreams of the Maximals are blurry, I do not blame them for seeing me only as a drone. I have attacked them, truth be told, as it should be. I would have killed them had the chance presented itself. Again. Or again.

The fog does not rise. If it did...if I could sense more than a vague shape behind the darkness, perhaps the voice of my master would not be absolute. I remember the name Dinobot, and it did not always mean "drone." Nor "slave." I remember that Dinobot is still my name. It might be my name forever.

There is that word again.

They don't see me, but through the fog, it is hard to even grasp my own reflection. The shine of the Darkside reveals a face to me, and a form that I cannot remember as mine...but it is, since I feel pain through it, action, hunger, rage. Loyalty. Obedience. I have a master, I am a slave, and the fog permits at least that.

I remember the cat...Cheetor. Not the fish-bot I saw before...he must have appeared from another stasis pod. I remember Optimus...and the rat. Vermin. Rattrap.

But the names and the faces match at times, and then they pass into that darkness. Then there is only the face, only the target. There need be nothing else.

I live to serve Megatron. The Maximals are my targets.

But forever...forever and forever and still there is darkness. There's no light that is myself. The fog...the darkness...Rampage's spark that is also mine, calling from that sable lurking...Megatron my master...loyalty, the faces, the names, the fog, the spark, the spark that keeps on sparking, the body that is (not is) mine, the face that is not (is), loyalty, the spark, the fog that always seems to be growing, and taking with it the light.

The fog is passing and surpassing, and I am blind inside it, even with this new body that can bring others so much pain, the form that heals itself. Not even this technology can beat this fog. The heart of darkness is not truly an organic organ, but a parasite, and it breeds like...like vermin.

No. No. Not like vermin...but a vague face appears, shining blue, red optics...a gray mouse torso plate. And then it too is gone, lost, a fragment of metallic shine in the ebon that is myself.

The fog is rising. The fog rises and then it spreads evenly its thickness; no light can still penetrate it. Words of a Decepticon shuttle...a ship...a spark, a pod, the fog.

I can't see still. I am Dinobot...and I remember the fog, and I do remember the Maximals. They appear and disappear in the fog...and somehow I know they have the power to dispell this darkness. Or, at the very least, contain it. Control it. I am my only master.

Megatron is my master. I am his drone.

If only...if only they could help me. End this darkness. Contain it, lock it away...let patterns of brightness echo and shatter the fog. If only.

But they don't see me inside the fog still. Perhaps...perhaps it is thicker on their side. They don't see me...and I cannot see them. The fog is perhaps too great for either of us to find each other. Blind, groping in the black, giving up the other for lost.

I am not lost...merely disoriented here. Forever. And alone...alone in this darkness. With a master, a slave, a spark...forever.

The Maximals, my com (targets) rades. They can't find me. They won't.

But sometimes...through the fog (when it does lift, sometimes, and the faces match the memories, and all the dreams are clear), I remember...and I wish...that they would.

Don't they see me...?

Can they...try?

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